#i too found it annoying but not enough to be a dick especially since i have an autistic cousin i lived with when i was 5-7

[flamingpudding]

Bat dad meet Ghost dad

Several years earlier....

"JAAAAAAZZZZZZZZ!" Danny flew excited through the Ghost Zone with a little kid in his arms rushing past some of his former rogues as he made a B-Line for his sister that happened to be in the Zone too, currently in a deep conversation with Frostbite about something Danny hadn't cared to pay attention to long enough. But right now he had exciting news he really wanted to share with his sister. Even now as adults Danny tented to live out his childishness whenever he could especially when he and his family went into the Ghost Zone.

The Halfa came to a screeching halt as he grined brightly at his sister who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, slightly amused at her younger brothers giddiness. "What is it Danny?"

"I got a son now!" Danny declared happily holding up a young ghost teen by the armpits into his sisters face.

The 'son' in Danny's hands stared at Jazz blinking owlishly as if the teen boy still needed a moment to catch up with what was going on and Jazz blinked back at the ghost and then at Danny. That was not a child but a teen ghost. Going by the size the kid was probably around 14 or 15 and he looked very much traumatised and Jazz could not tell if that was because of Danny or because of how the teen possible died.

"Danny what did you-" Her brother did not let her finish her question as he started rambling excitedly.

"He is a baby ghost Jazz! Look how young he is! I found him floating around aimlessly, his hunt hasn't even fully formed yet and when i picked him up there was that instant connection! You know the same-"

"Danny."

"I have with Clockwork and Pandora! I instantly knew he was mine! Mine to protect! Mine to guide! When I saw him I swear I just knew, I ghost adopted him the moment I made contact! He is family Jazz-"

"Danny."

"I just know he belongs with us! Look at him and tell me he doesn't have Fenton charms! I am sure Dan and Dani will love him too! He is such a cute little ghost! There is so much I can teach him! I will be the best dad ever to this wonderful little baby ghost! And-"

"Daniel William James Fenton!"

Danny bite his tongue instantly silenced when Jazz pulled out the full name call. Both him and the teen in his arms stared at her a bit shell shocked and in that moment Jazz couldn't help but hide a small amused smile at how similar Danny and the teen in his arms looked when they stared at her.

"Did you explain any of this to him?" She indicated to the teen, who's name she by the way still didn't know. Danny at least had the curtesy to look a little ashamed as Jazz pointed that out and let go of the teen so they could float on their own. She sighed with a fond smile before looking at the teen that looked a bit unsure between her and Danny now.

"What's your name?" She asked them with a friendly and encouraging smile.

"Jason...."

Current time...

Jason was in a little bit of a predicament. Originally he really thought he never would end up in this kind of situation espacially since he didn't think he would patch up things with Bruce any time soon. But we'll here he was...

Life liked proofing him wrong.

Like with he fact that Jason could use a ghost wail in dire situation. And that something like that would naturally call his ghost dad onto the scene since he collapsed after it.

And like with how he woke up in the bat caves med bay with both Danny and Bruce standing over him and glaring at each other. Or at least he thought they were glaring at each other that looked like a pretty annoyed stare in his eyes from Danny and Bruce's jaw was really tense from what was visible and not covered by his cowl.

So all Jason could do was endure at the moment. Aaaaand refuse to make eye contact with any of his present siblings. Mainly Dick because he wasn't sure how to interpret the others' smiles. For a moment Jason wondered if he could hide out in his ghost-dad's castle in the Ghost Zone for a while until whatever storm was brewing with Bruce was over.

There was also a moment in which Jason wondered if there could have been anything done to avoid this... confrontation(?). Before feeling the need to face palm because his Aunt that sort of has been giving him free therapy told him repeatedly that communication was key. He never regretted not listening to her more than he was right now.

To be fair. Communication with Bruce espacially hadn't been his strong suit for a while now before and after his death.

"So you are his Bat-Dad?" Jason did not like the way Danny, his ghost dad was using the word 'dad' right now. Oh good was he trying to challenge Bruce?

"And you are his Ghost-Dad?" Bruce grunted, oh now Jason was sure Bruce was giving Danny a glare, and Danny was getting that protective look in his eyes Jason was all to familiar with from his time as a dead baby ghost.

He groaned loudly sinking lower onto the medbed. Why did these things always have to happen to him? At least he was lucky that his Ghost Aunt and Uncle didn't show up too.

[abra-ka-dammit]

a video of a comedian with tourette's crossed my dash a couple days ago and i keep thinking about it because i realized id never actually.... experienced someone with tourettes? like it was a Concept in my mind that i knew existed and was out there but i'd never encountered it, and finally seeing it happen with a real life person was... idk, kinda jarring? because watching him i was like. yeah... if i didnt know what was going on id be pretty freaked out by that thing he keeps doing. and since my main touchpoint of tourette's knowledge was a south park episode largely mocking it, i only had a vague idea of what a real person with tourette's was like. obvs i knew it was more than randomly screamed obscenities but written descriptions of tics really dont do the actual acts justice when seen live, so it really was like. being slapped in the face with A New Thing I Don't Understand--which of course depending on the person can either lead to fear-based hate or acceptance of the new thing. i like to try to be the latter person.

and in my life, honestly just plain exposure has almost always been what makes me emotionally connect with "minority" groups, especially of the medical variety. its easy not to empathize with groups you don't belong to if you never actually have to see or hear them. it's easy to hate, then, too. without exposure to them, "people with tourette's" can just be a theoretical group of people you don't need to care about, because hey they must not number enough to matter because you don't think you've ever met one. hell, maybe they're not even real! but being introduced to real people who are Real Dementia Patients, Real Autistics, Real Tourette's Havers, etc.... seeing their human faces, hearing their human voices, seeing their movements and behaviors, learning about who and what they are and their experiences as that minority from their own lips; it helps you see them as human, and their status a human one.

theres not really an ending thought here. just having that wild experience of seeing something atypical "in real life" and coming to terms between my instinctual "what the fuck" and my logical "he has a disorder" to meet at "that's a person with a life experience I will never have or truly understand but i have no reason to discriminate against them for it, because they're really just another person"

[sohnric]

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say. 

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is. 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no. 

Until one fateful day, of course. 

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it…. 

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job. 

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall. 

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you. 

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy. 

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy. 

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take. 

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch. 

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window. 

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness. 

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence. 

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side. 

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin. 

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!” 

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news. 

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today. 

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift? 

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out… 

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building. 

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?” 

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall. 

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to. 

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same. 

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face. 

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate. 

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve). 

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful. 

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on. 

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work! 

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie. 

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working. 

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs. 

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?” 

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more. 

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool. 

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life. 

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours… 

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half. 

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted. 

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk. 

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face. 

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth. 

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside. 

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency. 

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema. 

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak. 

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now. 

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment. 

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation. 

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening. 

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure. 

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on? 

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat. 

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or. 

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions. 

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket. 

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control. 

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning. 

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?” 

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you. 

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way. 

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.” 

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–” 

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers. 

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement. 

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall. 

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside– 

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold. 

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you. 

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain. 

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle. 

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs. 

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game? 

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun. 

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video. 

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt. 

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything. 

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it. 

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema. 

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours. 

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief. 

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says. 

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice. 

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold. 

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment. 

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look. 

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express. 

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?” 

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?” 

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though. 

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross. 

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual. 

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N. 

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool. 

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s  in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him. 

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild. 

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do. 

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him. 

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by. 

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now. 

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates. 

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks. 

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season. 

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face. 

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head. 

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male. 

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land. 

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color. 

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh. 

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really. 

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 4 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): homophobia becomes a central theme. mention of a close dead relative. internalized misogyny.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 5

You were sitting on the grass under the bleachers when Janis 'Imi'ike came up to you.

"I'm not selling right now." You said, suspecting she was here to see about buying alcohol or something. You had a contact and made a small bit in commissions around the school selling stuff.

"I'm- what? What're you selling?" Oh, well, guess not then.

"Nothing." You didn't want to incriminate yourself. It was bad enough you were smoking a cigarette right this moment. You took another drag. Usually, you didn't smoke during school but today was turning out to be a shittier day than usual.

"I'm not a nark, I could-" She seemed to shake herself. "Anyway. Why did you come to school with Regina today?"

"You saw that?" You inquired, alarmed but making an attempt to hide it.

"Yes. Now, why?"

"We live on the same street. Her car was having issues." You shrugged, trying to play it off.

"How'd you know her car was having issues?" She did not seem inclined to just let it go. It was beginning to annoy you.

"Because I fix it from time to time. Like I said, we live on the same street. We're not friends or anything." While you didn't like lying, especially not when you yourself were bitter about it, protecting Regina's rep was more important.

"I think that's a lie. We went to the same middle school for a while. You were close back then." She accused, crouching to be at level with you. You were officially annoyed now.

"You used to be close too." You took another drag and, noticing your cig was on its last leg, stamped it on the ground. "And how'd that turn out?"

Janis gritted her teeth. "Not well."

"Exactly." You gave her a tight, snarky smile and stood up. "Bye."

"Wait a minute!" She jogged after you as you made for the school building. "I'm not done!"

"I think you are." You called back, hastening your step. "There's nothing for us to talk about, Janis."

"Dude! You're being a huge dick right now." Janis caught up to you, gesturing as if she were offended. "Why are you so touchy?"

"I'm not touchy, I'm pissed that a stranger is getting all up in my business." You informed her curtly. "Lay off."

She held her hands up in surrender, an infuriating smirk on her face. "What business do you have with Regina?"

You halted and dropped your backpack on the ground. "What is your problem?" You advanced on her, not exactly squaring up but still getting a little too close for comfort.

"Woah, protective, aren't you?" She wasn't intimidated in the least. That only angered you more. "Has she ditched Cady already and found a new pet?"

"If I were you, I'd watch my mouth." You said as menacingly as you could.

"We could help each other out, y'know." She said, playing innocent.

"Why would I help you with anything?"

"Because she hurt both of us." You had to agree with that, however reluctantly. "I want revenge. She needs to go down." Now, that you did not agree with.

"What do you mean?" If they were planning a coup or something, you needed to get the details. You wouldn't be putting up with that shit.

"Cady's gotten an in with the Plastics." You'd never liked that stupid nickname Janis insisted on using. "She's still on the fence about them, but it's only a matter of time before I'm proven right."

"You've infiltrated the popular girl group like 007, great, because Regina wronged you somehow in middle school? Grow up." You rolled your eyes and picked up your backpack.

"She outed me, you douche!" She exclaimed before probably even thinking about it. Realizing what she'd said, she glanced around warily. Nobody was nearby since you were away from the courtyard.

Okay. Well. That made this a lot more complicated. You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was the exact reason you hung around skaters and stoner-wannabes. At least their drama was about graffiti and who had the good kush, not about whatever the fuck this was. You weren't aware you were living in a teen drama.

"Okay." You breathed in deeply. You did not want to be involved, no matter how justified Janis could've been. However, you needed information if you wanted to get in the way. "What've you got?"

A mean grin nearly split her face. Then, in just a second, it melted away. "You won't tell anybody, right? About, uh, that earlier-"

"I sell drugs behind the school, dude." You put it flatly. "You have more flak on me."

"True." She conceded. "So..."

Their plans weren't very well constructed, to be fair. Janis wanted to prove to Cady that Regina was a bitch, her words, and that was sort of just a waiting game. In the meantime, they were collecting information. So far they'd found out about the Burn Book, supposedly a scrapbook that Regina and her friends had filled with mean things about everybody at Northshore. Staff and teachers included. Apparently, Cady hadn't had much time to peruse it, so neither Janis nor you were in it for all she knew.

The concept made you nervous. You could very well be in that book and Cady just hadn't seen it. If everybody was in it, including nobodies like Mary Stigson and Amber D'Alessio, the chance was incredibly high.

You didn't even know what she could've written about you. Over the years you'd shared incredibly vulnerable bits of information with her. She'd shared with you too, but you weren't in any position to weaponize her secrets. You'd been through embarrassing moments that just the two of you knew of, had seen each other cry and rage and experience all sorts of overwhelming emotions, had made it through mortifying tweenhood phases together.

Regina could've written your whole life story, the nastiest highlights at least, without breaking a sweat.

You were like a zombie for the rest of the day. Barely paying attention in class, twirling a pencil in your fingers listlessly as whatever teacher went on and on. You looked up when a sharp, female voice called your name. You apologized to Ms Norbury and pretended to start working.

Calculus class, huh? You looked around, trying to be inconspicuous. You met eyes with Cady Heron. She quickly turned back to her work, writing numbers furiously. So Janis had told her about their new accomplice. Of course, you had every intention to tattle first thing once you talked to Regina again.

You knew she wouldn't want to be seen leaving with you, so you shot her a text that you'd be behind the bleachers waiting. You were her ride, after all. It would've been rude to leave her.

Relaxing somewhere quiet and alone wasn't too bad. You lifted your headphones over your ears and put on a Nirvana CD. Just this morning Regina had called you 'a hobo with a liking for grunge', or something along those lines. You did so love proving her right.

You lit a cigarette in honour of Kurt and closed your eyes. Something about this day, the utterly exhausting events, made you desperate to feel some release. Ever since dropping Regina off, you'd been a fucking mess. Janis having seen the whole thing and then coming to conspire against Queen Bee hadn't helped. You wished things could be spelt out for you.

Did Regina like you? Yes or no. You knew it wasn't that simple, that things weren't simple for her like they were for you. You liked her and so it was easy to let her walk all over you. You liked her so, of course, you sided with her even when Janis and you had a camaraderie. You liked her and so you chose not to think about the horrible thing she'd done to Janis.

Was it only a matter of time before she'd use that secret against you, too? Did it hang above your head even now?

"Hey, loser, stub the cig and let's get outta here. I'm sick of this joint."

"Who taught you to talk like that?" You opened your eyes and looked up at Regina. "Certainly not your father."

"What daddy doesn't know won't hurt him." She offered her hand to pull you up. "C'mon. I have a nail appointment to get to."

You hauled yourself up with her help. Over-balancing a little bit you tipped into her space, and for a moment there you breathed the same air. You took a hasty step back and tuned back into the conversation.

"And- and how're you gonna get there?" You already knew.

"We don't have enough time to go to mine first, so..." She smiled sweetly at you, getting that calculating look in her eye as she grabbed your arm and pulled it close to her chest. Looking up at you through her lashes, long nails stroking down your forearm, a smile so alluring it was evil on her face, she knew she had you. You couldn't say no.

Gulping, you inclined your head. "I'll take you."

"Thanks, babe." And with that, she pressed her purse into your arms to carry and skipped ahead.

Fuck. Fuck. You closed your eyes and fought off a groan. You'd almost forgotten the crush you'd nursed for her back then. It hadn't ever left, you knew that much, but it hadn't smacked you in the face quite like this before. You were familiar with moments that made your heart beat fast, scenarios that played on a loop in your head, and dreams you could never really make sense of. Now, though, hearing her call you babe and the physical reaction it evoked, there was no plausible explanation other than the obvious fact: You had a crush on Regina George.

You knew—knew—that it was hopeless. There was no world in which you and Regina could be a thing. Or maybe there was, but that was a pipe dream you'd do no good in entertaining. Your dad didn't care about who you dated, but you were sure he would be none too pleased. Regina's dad was a whole other case. He was way stricter than your dad, though just as distant.

You'd done this before. It would be fine. Admittedly, back when you'd been actively crushing on Regina you had been twelve and under. Back then you'd still tolerated skirts and girly hairstyles. Back then it'd been socially acceptable to cling to your friend like a koala, kiss her cheeks and hold her hand. If you tried that shit now, especially looking like you did, it would not slide.

(You'd been called slurs around the halls before. While you didn't generate much rumours or hubbub, you knew that you existed in people's peripherals in a certain way. They'd snidely ask if you liked the Ellen Show. Make vile hand gestures at you when you passed by. Garry Fort, resident church boy and social outcast, had even offered to pray for you. You had refused.)

"Jorts! Get a move on!" Regina shouted, a good distance away.

"Yeah yeah," You muttered, but picked up the pace.

"What took you so long?" She asked as she settled into the front seat.

"Lost in thought, I guess." Waxing melancholy about how we could never be together, sweetums. You opted not to say that. "So, where's this appointment?"

"Just drive to town, I'll give instructions."

"Sure thing." You bit your lip and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. You hadn't had your licence for long but you'd been driving for much longer than that. You were a good driver. Back when you'd been young enough for your dad to feel obligated to spend time with you, he'd taken you to some backroads and taught you. Then, when that stopped, you'd done it illegally. Hey, girls gotta keep busy somehow.

"What's on your mind?" Regina asked, breaking the silence that'd turned uncomfortable.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." You swallowed. "How was your day?"

"How was my day, seriously?" She turned her body to face you, arms crossed and a displeased look on her face. "What is it?"

You tried to think of something to say. You didn't want to ruin her whole day by revealing she had a spy, of all things. You'd planned on waiting a little bit before telling her. You would've maybe taken her for a ride and then gently broken the news.

So, that was a bust.

"Cady Heron is spying on you. She's retelling everything you're doing together with Gretchen and Karen to Janis and her friend Damien Leigh." You blurted it all out. "I was smoking in my usual spot and she just came up to me. And, uh, recruited me. Apparently, she saw you leave my car this morning."

"What?" Regina screeched, face slack with shock as well as strained with fear, panic, and all sorts of jumbled emotions. "Did anybody else see?"

"I don't know!" Your shoulders lifted all the way up to your ears in a panicked shrug. Her emotions were rubbing off on you and you did not like it. "Did people act weird around you today?"

"No," She paused to think. "No, everything was fine. Karen liked my top."

"You mean my top?" You corrected.

"Whatever." Regina looked out of the window contemplatively. "Are you plotting against me?"

You rolled your eyes, and took your sights off the road for a second to shoot her a look. "If I was, would I be telling you?"

"I dunno, I vividly remember you being sorta stupid."

"Wow, thanks, Reg, that's high praise coming from you. Only sorta."

"Shut up. You're so annoying." She unfolded her arms and leaned back in the seat. "Cady Heron. A spy."

"Janis told me, and I quote: "She needs to go down." Which was pretty dramatic in my opinion." Regina didn't say anything. "I mean, we're in high school."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Regina inspected her nails. Pretty acrylics, sharp and lethal, decorated with gems and swirls. A little grown out, sure, but still in perfect condition.

"I just mean that..." You thought about what you wanted to say. "Y'know, on average women in America die, like, between seventy and eighty years old. We're less than a quarter of that right now. Five years from now, I bet the problems we have now will seem stupid and insignificant. And then five years, or ten, from that, the issues then will look the same way."

"Morbid." She turned to look at you. You couldn't tell what her expression was like, in the middle of changing lanes to pass a car going way under the limit. "Are you always this philosophical?"

"I could be. If you wanted me to be." You wondered if that edged a little too close to flirty.

"No. It's insufferable." You didn't know how to respond to that. "I don't fucking care about the grand scheme of things. My problems aren't stupid or insignificant now, so it's no fucking use thinking, oh, it'll all be fine with time! Well, it won't be, if I don't do something right now." She ranted, waving her hands as she did. "And I will argue that women die much earlier than that."

"It's a statistic, Reg-"

"No, women die at menopause at the latest. They get sad, saggy and undesirable and they die." She said with such conviction that it shook you. "When you stop being beautiful, it's all over."

"Regina, that's..." Wrong. Incorrect. A horrible way to think. "I don't think that's true."

"Women like my mom have nothing to offer. When dad stopped wanting her and started looking elsewhere, when she stopped being asked out at the grocery store and they started asking me, when Kylie poked at her flab and asked what her stretch marks were, she died."

Listening to her talk like that, about her mom nonetheless, was heartbreaking. Still, you couldn't help getting angry. "Your mom is alive and well, Reg. Your dad cheating isn't her fault, it's him being an awful human being. Being asked out at the grocery store isn't like receiving a fucking Nobel prize. Flab and stretch marks are what you did to her body. What Kylie did to her body." You bit your lip when it started wobbling. You bit down harshly to stop it.

You continued even when your voice crackled. "My mom's always gonna be young and beautiful. She's gonna always gonna have smooth, wrinkle-free skin. I won't get to ask about her flab or stretch marks. Not ever." Regina was quiet. You could feel her eyes on you. "You don't get to complain about growing old. Mrs George's been like a mom to me, you know that, so don't fucking insult her in front of me. You can get all the botox and surgeries you want, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to that shit."

"Sorry." She said, quietly. She'd never been good at apologies.

"It's fine." You wiped at your eyes. "I'm sorry for freaking out."

"No, it's... That was stupid." She mostly muttered, now sunken into the seat.

You shouldn't have raved at her like that. Unpacking all that she said would've been much easier with a clear head. Now you were both stuck in this tension. Tears drying on your cheeks and snot in your nose, you wished things would be easier. You wished Regina had never been taught to think like she did, that she'd see herself like you saw her.

"I think you'll still be pretty when you're forty." You put it out there, going for casual.

"You don't have to lie." She huffed, assuredly rolling her eyes.

"I'm not lying. I don't think a few wrinkles are enough to ruin your face."

"I'm not gonna get wrinkles. By the time I'm old enough to get them, there's gonna be technology to prevent signs of ageing entirely."

You laughed at that. "Are you gonna pioneer that?"

"You think I'd be smart enough?"

"I think you're very intelligent, Regina."

"Hm." You could tell she was pleased, though she was looking away. "Take left here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Notes: I'm writing these abnormally fast. Usually, I'm a total sloth with these things. I guess the instant gratification of notes really is addicting. If I suddenly drop off, I promise I didn't die I just ran out of steam.

I have no idea how long this series will be. I have a general outline and character arcs going in my head, but I'm purposefully not drafting anything. I've noticed that when I plan too much I just feel like I've already written the story and don't wanna put any of the work in. So, with this method, though it has its flaws, I won't get bored of my own ideas!

Also, just to sort of put it out there in writing, they're meant to be flawed characters. OC might be self-aware to a point, but she too has her shortcomings. While Regina's more obviously flawed, neither of them are saints. They're teenagers with shitty home lives, they're gonna be fucked up. That also includes Janis and Cady. They're all dumb teenagers with unresolved issues.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer

[gatorbites-imagines]

Whitebeard fucker here lol I’ve been summoned. Could you write something with a reader whose used to being the biggest guy around meeting whitebeard and going “ohhh” and wanting to climb that man like a tree? Any and all kinks are up to your choosing monsieur gator!! Also happy birthday man!

Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate x male reader

Headcanons

Bit my lip so fucking hard when I saw this request. Whitebeard enjoyers come assemble!

Thanks for the birthday wish :) I ended up getting a lot of comics and manga, so I’m very happy.

Reader possesses a devil fruit I made up I call the sun-sun Fruit. Hes also like 16 ft 9. Hes also at least 40+ years old. Old man yaoi.

You had known of Whitebeards existence ever since you started traveling the sea, who didn’t? The guy was a legend known as the strongest man alive, someone to avoid if you did the type of business you did.

You were a bit of an everything man. Information gathering, Intimidation, bodyguarding, assassin, anything that paid you a lot and you didn’t have to hurt the innocent, Youd do it.

The world government were cautious of you, but always let you get away with things others wouldn’t, as you also took jobs for them if need be. You played on every board, siding with pirates, with marines, with the poor, and with the rich. As long as they had good reason for asking for your help.

Your Sun-Sun fruit always helped with this as well, making you an extremely powerful fighter, possessing the ability to gather and store solar energy and light itself. After mastering it you could easily create explosions big enough to destroy islands, coat your body in solar energy, or coat your weapons, as well as many other things.

Your preferred weapon were spears, your most beloved weapon a naginata that had been gifted to you after a job well done, some celestial who fanboyed over pirates wanting to give you a big reward. The naginata was supposedly cursed, but you two got along a little too well most days.

All in all, you were well known in your own circles, but nowhere near as much as someone like Whitebeard.

That was also the reason you turned down your latest request to kill Whitebeard. You might have been strong, but you were never an idiot. You might have stood at almost 17 feet, towering over anyone you had ever met, but even you know Whitebeards crew was so loyal it was lethal.

The people giving you the request has been annoyed about you rejecting it, but they could do nothing to stop you as you left, on your way to the next island. There was never a destination in mind if you didn’t have a contract, so you just called it joy sailing.

It was mere coincidence that you found yourself sailing through Whitebeards territory. You had no need for a crew, as you had mastered the skill to create stand-ins with your sun-sun fruit, creating human shaped beings out of condensed solar energy.

The ship you traveled in wasn’t too big either, especially compared to the moby dick. But they had easily spotted you, and your “crew” had spotted them in return. For some reason the whitebeard crew were interested in you, though their interest made your heartrate skyrocket as the moby dick neared your own much smaller ship.

When it became clear they weren’t there to fight, you agreed to link up your ships, even if it was just because you knew they could end you before you would be able to run for it.

Stepping onto the ship, part of you was curious at their lack of reaction to your towering height, even as they had to turn their heads all the way back to look at you to ask questions about your “light crew”, or one of them demanding to know what your favorite food was, or where you got your naginata.

When you finally met Whitebeard though, it all made sense. The guy made even you feel small, even though he wasn’t towering over you the same way you were the rest of his crew. Maybe it was his presence, as he laughed and patted you on the back, greeting you by the nickname the masses called you.

But all you could think about was how seeing someone taller than you made you feel. Just feeling his large hand patting your shoulder, or seeing how he was still taller than you when you sat, was enough for you to think about booking it again.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you stuck around with the Whitebeard crew for a while. To the point where they started acting like you were part of the crew. Even when you tried to turn it down, they’d just give you a knowing look before ignoring your complaints.

In your opinion, you were too old to join someone’s crew, especially with you being known as a “backstabber”, as you never picked one specific side.

And yeah, you knew why you were sticking around for so long. It was all Whitebeard, and that weird, fluttering feeling he gave you, and the arousal he caused, but that was not as important…for the most part.

It was only after the crew had settled on the island to restock that you thought about leaving for real. One of your contacts had called you on your den den mushi, and told you about a very high paying job. You might have been so rich your ancestors would live in luxury, but you could never get enough.

Unluckily for you, Whitebeard had overheard the call. He had looked sad about you wanting to leave, but had invited you to join him for a drink before you packed up and went on your way.

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside him in front of a bonfire, just the two of you, both of you decently buzzed and flushed. Your devil fruit power made you mostly immune to alcohol, the heat of the sun burning the alcohol away before it could work, but whatever stuff Whitebeard had on him seemed to have the right kick.

Later you would blame the alcohol for your reaction when Whitebeards hand settled on your lower back. You had abandoned your jacket a while ago, some of Whitebeards crew running off with it to use it for some drunk game they were playing.

Your devil fruit also worked best without too much clothes in the way, meaning Whitebeards hand was right on your back, and your thirsty self had arched into it with a soft groan, your head flopping to the side to rest against him.

Whitebeard had chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual loud guffaw, but something deeper and smoother, like melted dark chocolate or the best whiskey you had ever drank.

His hand had rubbed and massaged your back until you felt like putty, small sparks of light and solar energy flickering across your torso as your control slipped, Whitebeard huffing amusedly at the small jolts it sent through his arm.

You would blush in the future when thinking about it, denying it ever happened, before blaming the alcohol once more. But in that moment, it was impossible to not spill all the thoughts you had about him. How he made you feel so hot inside, how much you fantasied about him, his hands, his height, his cock.

Whitebeard had seemed almost charmed, and maybe he was. It wasn’t every day that someone his age and especially his size had someone fawning over them. Maybe that was why he pulled you into his lap, with your back resting against his chest, as his battle worn hands traveled across the front of your torso.

He murmured and purred into your ears as one of his large, calloused hands groped and pinched at one of your pecs, making you gasp and arch into the touch, legs jolting until his other hand came down to hold your thigh in place.

The praise falling from his lips had you feeling much drunker than you were, vision blurring for a second before you were able to focus again, your own hands grasping at his pantleg as you huffed out a breath.

The veins across your body lit up every now and then from the stored solar energy in your body flickering, causing Whitebeard to chuckle that deep chuckle once more, making some comment about that being a nice party trick.

You were about to snap back a rebuttal, something rude about his own devil fruit power, but before the words could even leave you, the hand gripping your thick slid under your waistband.

Embarrassment flooded your system as you keened, head falling back onto his chest as your hips jolted. And how crazy was that? He was so tall your head fall onto his chest, not his shoulder, not above his own head, his chest.

It had your throbbing even more, immediately coating his palm in a layer of precum, making Whitebeard tsk teasingly, before rubbing the palm against the head of your sensitive shaft, only making you drip even more.

What could you say. You were sensitive. Being your size made it pretty hard to find a partner who could keep up with you, or someone you wouldn’t hurt on accident. And as your fame grew, less and less individuals even wanted to give it a try.

That was why you were keening and whimpering in Whitebeards lap like some kind of virgin, at least that’s what you told yourself to keep your dignity.

It didn’t explain the way you jolted and spilled into his hand when Whitebeard grabbing your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you. Your eyes rolled back, and solar energy flashed across your body as you came, gasping into his mouth, your breath so hot It would have harmed anyone not as sturdy as Whitebeard.

With his lips still pressed against yours he mumbled praise, telling you stuff that had you melting even further into his embrace, hips still jolting and twitching into his hand like you didn’t want it to end.

As you rolled your hips you could feel his own erection, and you almost wanted to pass out from just how big he felt. You had never met anyone who was bigger than you in that way, yet here Whitebeard was, pretty much offering it to you on a silver platter.

The night was spent with Whitebeard wringing more than just a couple of orgasms out of you, at some point leaving you so overstimulated and pleasured that your body had phased out, turning into solar energy.

Whitebeard had cackled loudly at the sight, seeing how you were in so much pleasure you couldn’t even stay solid. When you finally came back to yourself, he placed a big kiss on your cheek and then your mouth, making some teasing comment about it all.

The next morning you couldn’t look his crew in the eye, the knowing looks boring into your large broad back, that for once was wearing a shirt, to cover most of the hickeys their captain had left on you.

And if you just so happened to turn down the job offer your informant gave you, and if you just so happened to attach your ship to their fleet, and you just so happened to start being referred to in the same parental way as Whitebeard, who would be the wiser.

You honestly had no idea how to react when Whitebeards, and you guessed now your, crew started referring to you with a fatherly title in the same way they called Whitebeard Pops. You hadn’t wanted to be open about your relationship with Whitebeard, but to the crew it was so damn obvious.

Even when you and Whitebeard became official, and maybe even married at some point, you still took jobs every now and then, never getting enough of the thrill of money. But it was a lot less, and you pretty much cut all contact with the world government.

Sure, that got you a bounty and a high reward, but you honestly couldn’t care. After all this time you realized, maybe a crew wasn’t so bad. It also helped to have a partner that made you feel safe and cared for, whilst also leaving you limping in the best possible way.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

Regarding my last ask how does the batfam react to Venom? Like how do they interact with them? Also how did it look from another perspective? The Spider having a new look and abilities and acting in a new way.

That's also a good question! (Basically everything you ask me will be a good question because it gives me more ideas)

I will do every character in the story so far and explain their first reaction and then how they would act with Venom as they get used to him.

Clark Kent: he would be the first one you show Venom after getting to know him and trusting him enough.

Plus, after he refused to make Batman meet you again after you refused when he proposed it made you feel appreciated and you knew you could trust him with Venom.

Venom also trusted him and was friendly with him, something new since Venom was usually hostile with everyone, including you the first month you two were together before warming up to you.

He's usually a snarky little brat whenever Clark tries to start a speech about Justice, just to mess with him since he knows Clark can hear him.

Plus Venom would just laugh whenever he and Clark would argue while you would eat something, loving how easy it was to rile Clark up.

Clark, the first time he met Venom, was a bit surprised at such alien and especially the new abilities it came with, surprised such blob like creature was so advanced in speech and abilities.

He did try to separate the two of you before understanding that Venom was like another part of you that cannot be removed, especially since you refused to let go of Venom after spending so much time with him.

He's also incredibly weirded out when he saw your form when Venom takes over, too used to your shorter form (since Clark is freaking tall and you're still a teen), plus all the black goo that Venom uses to move around like you makes him a bit disgusted but would never say it to your face.

He does not mind Venom after getting to know him, but does get angry whenever Venom would make fun of him or his speeches even though he never gets so mad to say something offensive since he knows Venom respects him. (You told him that when Venom was distracted, but got a bit of an earful by him after he found out).

He is one of the people Venom actually listens to and gets easily manipulated by when you get hurt, making him believe that staying with the Waynes with you and making you weak so you wouldn't escape, would be for the best.

(Clark also got manipulated since he wanted to take you home with him and his sons, but compromised to be able to visit whenever he wants because he thought you staying there was the best option)

Bruce Wayne: ok so, Bruce will find out about Venom when he first met Spider aka you in part 3.

How did he meet Venom? Basically when you grab Tim with your webs changes into Venom that grabs Tim, staying hidden for a bit before coming out to taunt Bruce when you refused his proposal.

After he finds out who you are behind the mask and gets overprotective over you, Venom usually annoys him or taunts him when you're forced to spend time with him to make up for the fact that he didn't before.

He would never respect Bruce, not after what he saw from your memories and how you were treated for years while Bruce would treat him like an annoying mosquito that flies in your room at night.

Bruce would hate Venom sometimes, especially when he sees you talk with Venom with such happiness in your eyes but when you're with him, you're usually with a dead expression and never say anything.

He would be so jealous of Venom and how you acted so close with him but would act like you were dead when spending time with your father.

When he did see Venom in his full form when you needed to go to bed but was stuck on the couch with Dick and Tim trying to cuddle with you, it shocked him.

He was glad he managed to manipulate the alien so he could keep you in the Manor or he knew he couldn't stop the alien, at least until he knew everything about it and all his weaknesses.

Dick Grayson: the rest of the batkids will also learn about Venom the same time Bruce does so I'll start from then so I don't repeat it.

Dick would be amazed by the alien, even though he knew Kori/Starfire (not sure on her name so I put both) but the alien form you were fused with was far more interesting.

He did get scared when Tim suddenly get caught in Venom's webs/goo, not thinking you would attack or even notice them since they were trained to be as silent as a ninja.

He does get along with Venom by giving him brains from gangsters that dared to hurt you when you were still a vigilante, plus he used Venom as a way to hide the evidence whenever he killed someone.

(You would always be sleeping when Venom would eat people and he would make sure you never knew)

He doesn't mind Venom and they're friends, plus he gets an advantage with you since Venom slowly manipulates you to see Dick as a brother and not an enemy.

Overall, Dick wouldn't mind Venom and actually be one of the ones to use him for their advantage with you, since the others aren't really good with Venom or you hate them and Venom does too.

Jason Todd: he's similar to Dick since he fight gangsters everyday and does kill them so he brings the remains to Venom when you're asleep and Venom took over.

He would spoil you and Venom to the max, giving you everything you wished for even if it was something you wanted when you were 12.

Venom likes him because he and Jason love taunting Bruce and making him feel bad, while you just stay on the side or sleeping since Venom takes over mostly when you sleep so you won't complain about what he does.

Plus, Jason is one of the brothers you actually spend time with since he doesn't try to invade your personal space like Dick, and just spends time with you even if you both are just reading in a comfortable silence.

Jason treats you and Venom like normal, not really giving off that he's a yandere even though Venom knows he's one of the ones to manipulate you in small ways because after all, he's also Bruce's son.

Tim Drake: he's a bit difficult to understand since he acts normal, like when you didn't even exists in his life, but he did change a bit.

He spends more time with you and Venom, mostly with you three in his room watching him work or you ignoring him as he tries to talk to you, even using Venom to cover your ears.

Venom and Tim are on ok terms, Venom doesn't hate the guy but also doesn't really like him. They're both neutral and act civil whenever they talk while you do your thing.

He doesn't really react when Venom takes over, acts normal while also studying Venom to see if he had any weaknesses so he could exploit them if necessary.

Damian Wayne: oh Venom hates him and it's reciprocated since Damian also detest the alien form that is fused with you.

He did try to find ways to separate the two of you but stopped when Bruce and Clark informed him that you were fused with Venom to the point you two would die if you get separated.

He hates the alien since whenever he tries to impress you, he's there to annoy him or taunt him with what he did to you in the past.

He also hates how he can't spar with you because of the alien since he makes you weakened and slower, so the fight wouldn't even be fair and Damian wants it to be fair so he can show off how good he is.

He doesn't care about how Venom looks, he just hates him even if he's ugly but can't really say anything to you since you also hate him and don't want to spend time with him.

He does know it's his own fault for treating you so bad for years, especially whenever he sees your scars that were caused by him but prefers to blame Venom for making you against him.

Overall, everyone does accept Venom except for Bruce and Damian but they can't really do much about it.

Part 1 to the ask about Venom is here!

Sorry for taking so long for it, hope you like it!

For the divider you can go to @saradika-graphics! She does amazing dividers!

[meadowscarlet]

james potter as your boyfriend.

pairings: james potter x fem!reader.

warnings: nsfw under the cut and inappropriate language used.

author’s note: disappearing again after this so enjoy this for now </3 !!! do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

in the relationship

• he literally fell for you the moment he first saw you, nobody can blame him; you were too incredibly beautiful, an elegance unlike any other, an just overall lovely so it was no surprise how quickly he grew an infatuation with you

• like he could still remember that day (of course he could, bloody sirius would always find a way to remind him) when he bumped into a wall and fell, crashing to the ground, the lens of his glasses cracking from the impact as he passed by you, and he was too enthralled to pay attention to where he was going

• remus would say to him, looking utterly fed up with him, “james, that's the tenth time you've broken your glasses, for merlin's sake watch where you're going.”

• james would argue, “the love of my life was just near me, you can't tell me that i should just ignore her.”

• remus doesn't bother saying anything and simply leaves him alone with peter and sirius, who were laughing hard

• so yes; he did fell for you, literally and figuratively

• at first you weren’t that pleased with him; he literally won’t leave you alone—flirts with you whenever he has the chance and you were simply annoyed by it

• “you have to stop it,” he would complain with a goofy grin

• “stop what?” you asked, confused

• “being so beautiful; it’s distracting me in class, i can’t pay attention to anything other than you, love.”

• even while you occasionally found his antics bothersome, somehow you grew fond of it to the point that you finally agreed to be his girlfriend

• he literally won’t. stop. smiling

• “you’re finally my girl, i mean you’ve always been but this is much better.”

• treats you so GOOD

• worships the ground you walk on (ever since the beginning)

• calls you “love”

• so clingy !!!!!!!!!!!!! but you love it though

• definitely pouts and sulks when you don’t pay attention to him

• needs affirmation all the time. he cherishes it when you kiss his cheeks and reassure him; it helps him feel worthy of you and you would constantly assure him that he is enough for you

• “godric, i bloody love you,” he would say pulling you to him and never having the intention of letting you go

• you’re his lucky charm in everything but most especially whenever he has a quidditch match

• would refuse to play until you arrive

• his eyes would light up once you finally arrived, and he would be immensely motivated to win

• blows you a kiss whenever he scores

nsfw

• “fuck me,” he would groan whenever he sees you wearing his quidditch jersey with nothing under it

• gets turned on so fucking fast

• so needy. literally begs for you, “please, love, i need you right now.”

• moans and whines for you to just fuck him as you grind your pussy against his throbbing dick

• a switch—sometimes he takes control when he’s fucking you but he doesn’t mind you being dominant over him, in fact, he likes it

• he is obsessed with eating you out; he would devour your pussy as if he were a starving man; you laying on the bed, bare before him just like he desires, especially after a long day and gripping your hips down anytime you would whine and beg for more

• you both are just desperate for each other

• “you gonna cum, love? fuck, i could cum just by looking at you all wet for me.”

[wriitingwoes79]

Naughty Neighbors Pt 2

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Y/N

Summary: Tensions rise a week after “the incident” and the both of you are doing your best to get on each others nerves. Tonight, you take it too far—and face the consequences.

Content Warning: masturbation, use of sex toys, mention of casual sex/bar hookups

WC: ~1.1k

AN: once again, heavy on the UNEDITED. I HAD to cut it short chickies it was tooo fucking long but part 3 WILL be posted on Monday!!

MDNI!!!

It had been a week since the incident with Miguel. A long and insufferable week. A week of trying to get on with your life, hooking up with random strangers to try and scratch the itch that he'd created--to no avail, mind you. No one you found in seedy bars and dazzling nightclubs after your shifts at work could manage to do an inkling of what he'd done to you in a matter of minutes (seconds, if you were being completely honest).

But that didn't stop you from making sure Miguel was home to hear every minute of it. Sure, your moans were...well, fake, and the men didn't last long and you kicked them out shortly after, but you gained a sick satisfaction from hearing his door slam shut angrily and the music in his apartment grow louder to combat the sounds you were making. In retaliation, Miguel would dump your mixed up mail on your welcome mat, and make even more noise than usual in the early mornings when you slept.

You were both intent on making each other absolutely miserable.

You may have taken it too far tonight.

This entire week, you always waited until Miguel left to try and finish yourself off with your new-and-improved rechargeable vibrator you ordered the day after the incident. However, you never seemed to make it over the edge and cum.

Today, of course, you used it after the latest disappointment you picked up from a random bar down the street had left. You'd just finished taking a shower and didn't even bother to get dressed into pajamas. You merely laid on your sheets, legs spread and towel unwrapped as you started working on the annoying urge that Miguel had built up.

Your thoughts began to wander as you held the head of the wand against your clit, soft pants leaving between your parted lips. Flashes of the hallway began to flicker beneath your closed eyes: the hard and cold walls pressing into your flushed skin, hot breaths fanning over your neck, rough callused hands that gripped you hard enough you'd spent the past few days examining the small bruises they left.

You thought about how good it felt to have him nearly rip your clothes to pieces, pushing his hard dick against your panties before he eventually pulled them down too, sliding it between your slick thighs to fuck between them. Now, your thighs were slick again, your pants now becoming breathy and audible moans as you got closer and closer to reaching your climax. You imagined Miguel's thick and generously sized dick pushing into you, filling you up more than any man from the bar, and even your ex, coming so so so close to the edge of the orgasm you'd been chasing for the entire week.

"Oh, fuck, Miguel. Don't stop," you whined, unable to stop the words leaving your lips as you dwelled in your fantasies.

You heard a door slam but the sound was too far away to even dwell on it. Especially not when you were so close to reaching what you'd been so rudely denied. You could barely contain yourself anymore, sweat slicked on your nude body as your body began to melt into sweet sweet bliss.

That is until rough hands banged loudly on your front door.

You started with a jolt, sitting up with your vibrator in hand, and wrapping the towel over you in the other. The banging started once more and your knees knocked closed just as a voice growled loud enough for you to hear from your bedroom.

"Y/N! Open up, I know you're in there!"

Ooooh, you were in for it now. Miguel was going to kill you.

You panicked, standing up completely and looking around the room. Your thoughts raced faster than your heart as it pounded heavily in your chest.

He wasn't supposed to be home!

Oh God, you should answer the door--wait, you should put some clothes on first!

Why is the vibrator still in your hand?

You turned off the vibrator and tossed it on your nightstand, already starting to rummage through your dresser for something to wear when you heard his voice again.

"I swear to God, if you don't open this fucking door right now, I'll kick it down." You could not lose your security deposit.

“Fuck!” You tugged the towel around you tighter, hoping to cover as much of you as you could, hoping the sheen of sweat glistening off your skin would make it seem you'd just gotten out of the shower.

"Alright! Alright, I'm coming," you yelled through the door, "Don't get your sweatpants in a fucking twist."

You unlocked the door and swung it open, your free hand clasping the towel closed.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

Miguel was seething when you opened the door. His bare chest, also shining with sweat, heaved as he huffed deeply. The muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he crossed his arms, even more muscles rippling underneath his skin. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he too had been tossing and turning in bed. But he shouldn't have been. You were sure he'd left his apartment way before you even took a shower.

"What?" You asked, annoyed. It took everything in you to look him directly in the eyes. You hadn't dared to look farther than his chest upon first seeing him, but your peripheral was giving you a sneaking suspicion about a certain something pressing against the fabric of his blue boxers. You knew he'd given the same once over to you too, with how pink the tips of his ears had gotten.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he started, "You don't get to act annoyed with what you've been doing all week."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You smiled innocently.

"The fact that you haven't actually cum all week says otherwise. Your dates not up to snuff?" His scowl turned into a deep smirk and your cheeks heated up in response. How could he even know?

"Oh please," You shoved his chest away from the threshold, "Like you could even do the job. You barely lasted two minutes, I'm sure you had to rush back inside before you busted all over the walls."

In a flash, you were back in your apartment...with Miguel inside too. You winced as your back was pressed against the cold door, Miguel's hands on either side of your head.

"So you're going to keep denying it?" He asked, his voice softer now only in volume--the intensity was still enough to make your knees weak. You didn't look him in the eyes until he forced your chin up, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. "Answer me, fiera." You scowled at his pet name for you.

"No."

"Have it your way then."

~to be continued~

[kachowden]

Hello! Just found your blog recently but i really like it here :3

Could we learn more about Apis the bull demon, specifically i would like to know about these special "needs" u mentioned

Of course! And thank you so much that means a lot anon <3 （＾∇＾）

TW: nsfw themes, degradation, Excessive cum, size difference, “milking”, overstimulation, slight masochism

——————————

The hallow, thundering sound of your bedpost smashing against the wall filled your once neat and tidy bedroom.

“For fucks sake Apis not again!”

The beast mewled in embarrassment

It was a filthy sight really.

The bed was misshapen, sheets falling off, pillows thrown across the room. The only exception being the two head pillows, that cushioned the bull demons heavy cock. Just barely.

It twitched and pulsed to life under your stare, thick globs of pretty cum dripping from the flaming head, soaking your pillows more than they had already been.

You’ll have to get those thrown out.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. No, the first time it happened you damn near passed out in shock. Actually no, you did pass out. You woke up the sight of large pecs squished into your face, and a hefty weight strewn across your lap. You passed twice that day actually.

To be perfectly honest you weren’t very well versed in the needs or biology of demons, nor more specifically bull demons. So how could you have know these guys needed a regular “milking”?

You pitied the poor fella who first discovered that.

Speaking of.

Apis whined needily at your wandering thoughts, forcing a multitude of disgusting, filthy lewd visuals to flood in, and encouraging you to take a deep breath and squeeze your thighs together tightly.

He practically purred at the sight, hips stuttering forward slightly and smearing cum against your sheets.

“Apis didn’t we take care of this last week? Isn’t it supposed to be monthly?”

Emphasis on supposed to be. Apis was a special case though.

You’d taken him to a “demon expert” once, to find out why he was so consistently hot and bothered.

Apparently since he was “infatuated” with you, and you two had yet to mate, the “milking” period was had become much more frequent in an attempt to coerce you into having sex with him. You know like how some demons have pheromone’s and heats and all that?

Except you don’t know because you literally knew nothing about demons before meeting Apis.

Just your luck right?

Painintheassfuckingmotherfucker-

Anyway.

It was annoying to put simply. Granted, bull demon seed sold for quite a lot to most “farms” and “grocers”. So in terms of some extra cash it really wasn’t all that bad. It was just a massive blow to your pride and mental stability.

Not to mention it made your back hurt something awful.

The poor guy was a fucking mess during milking time. It was hard to keep him to sit still half the time, especially with his whip like tail occasionally smacking you in the face, and him trying to grab you or grind into your side.

Typically he was pretty well behaved, just not on days like this which has become more and more frequent.

You guessed this “milking” period was pretty effective.

Your hand wasn’t nearly big enough to wrap around the full girth of his cock, so more often than not you’d have to use both to successfully lift the thing up. It was heavy too, which often meant you had to take breaks. But you’d gotten better!

You supposed that wasn’t really something to be proud of.

Luckily it wasn’t that difficult to get him going after that. You were pretty sure you could breathe on it and he’d ejaculate at least a pound or two worth. But that never solved the problem. He needed direct stimulation, from you, before his dick would go back down and he’d be good for a few more weeks.

So typically you had to be extra hands on. Which is what you were doing now.

The bull demon rested dutifully against the sofa, length stood proud and pulsing above the metal bucket on the floor, meant to catch whatever came out.

You’d done this enough times to have finally bought a big enough bucket. You could probably take a bath in the thing if you really wanted to even, though that wasn’t really important to mention right now.

Apis let out a half growl half whimper, as his hips bucked upwards, cock head rubbing against your cheek disgustingly.

Motherfucker had the audacity to moan at the sight.

“Watch it!” You pushed the appendage away, unfortunately causing Apis to release another deliciously filthy moan at the split second contact, as more pre cum rushed from the sweet Cherry red tip of his cock.

He was such a pathetic mess.

why was he such a pathetic hot mess?!

His teary eye urged you to continue, your mind being overwhelmed with the desperate and erotic imagery he sent to you.

You were 90% sure you couldn’t bend that way.

You supposed you had to finish this quickly now, less this bull decided to finally take matters into his own hands.

Your hands gripped at the base of his cock, encouraging even more pre cum to dribble out, before you finally began pumping.

It was an arm work out for sure, but you couldn’t help and admire the visuals at this point.

His head was thrown back, and his pretty pattered fur fluffed up with pleasure. Delicious, sultry moans poured from his jagged teeth, and his shoulders shook with the force which he gripped the couch head. You could hear it cracking under the pressure of his fingers. The implications of those hands holding you down made you shiver, and pump your hands a little faster.

At some point however, the pathetic mewls and moans began to fade into white noise, as your previous trance quickly turned into irritation.

Especially at the sight of your ruined furniture.

Whyd this happen to you exactly anyway? All you did was find the guy when he was wandering in your back yard at night. You thought he was trying to rob you or something! But he looked so sad that you stupidly took pity on him.

You didn’t have to offer him to stay though! Maybe he hypnotized you or something. Maybe he hypnotized you into naming him too! Maybe he’s the reason your stuck here, say and night, helping an overgrown cow jerk off in your living room, in your house, when you could be doing literally anything else after a long, exhausting, annoying day! Maybe he-!

“Ahhhgn!”

A loud blaring, thundering wave hit your thoughts like a truck, forcing you away from your angry inner tantrum.

Apis had never done that before.

Oh.

The bull demons eye was screwed shut, tears pouring out from behind his eye lids, his whole body riddled with tremors as orgasm after orgasm was ripped from his poor abused cock. He whined deeply and pathetic, choking out moans with strangled pants and furious blush that swelled over his cheeks and shoulders.

He slumped back tiredly, as fat bursts of seed shot from his cock all over the floor and couch. The bucket overflowing with cum that you hadn’t even noticed till now.

Holy shit

This was probably the most disgustingly sexy thing you’d ever seen. He looked utterly ruined

You would have felt bad for the poor bastard too, had it not been for the stupid wobbly grin and your name being sang like a prayer from the bulls thoughts.

What a pain in the ass.

“?”

“Not an invitation.”

———————————-

A/n: hope you enjoyed <3

[atopvisenyashill]

What if Stannis was the eldest instead of Robert?

This one kinda stumps me tbh. On the one hand, Ned & Stannis are far too similar to ever grow particularly friendly but on the other hand, Stannis isn’t gonna sleep around on Lyanna (he’s barely gonna sleep with her lmao) so Lyanna is probably not itching to leave that betrothal? But on the other hand, Stannis is gay in a very Roman “my god i HATE women i’m gonna suck dick instead” kinda way due to the patriarchal hellhole he lives in, and I can’t imagine him approving of how wild Lyanna is, and what 15 year old girl wants to be married to a dubiously heterosexual stick in the mud? on the other hand, stannis reiterates at several points that shireen is his heir, and he makes it a point to offer for renly to be his heir over shireen, meaning he believes in the andal “a daughter before an uncle” law so there is *some* hope for him?

regardless of how lyanna and ned and robert and stannis all feel, Lyanna is still going to save Howland from being picked on, enter the lists, beat some ass, and get found out by rhaegar, who will still crown her queen of love and beauty. he’s still gonna get fixated on her and since we don’t know how willing she was, it’s entirely possible that he makes off with her even if she says “well stannis is annoying but i promised.” brandon & rickard are still gonna go to the capital and demand lyanna back, and aerys will still kill everyone brutally and jon will still raise his banners and refuse to hand over ned and stannis.

in THIS situation tho - it’s called robert’s rebellion for a reason. for all his many failings as a ruler, a husband, a father, and a brother, robert was the perfect figurehead for this rebellion. he was military minded, thick as a castle wall, charming, and had distant valyrian blood. stannis has the valyrian blood and that’s about it. i think stannis is smart enough to get through the beginning of the war but we don’t know why the smallfolk decided to help robert in the battle of the bells. it could be they were just as sick of aerys as everyone else and would have helped any rebel, but just as likely it was robert HIMSELF who inspired that loyalty. even assuming they still hide stannis, is he capable of defeating rhaegar at the trident without help? that image of Robert’s warhammer coming down on Rhaegar is iconic not just for the series but for the rebellion! does ned step into the fight, to save stannis, to fight for his sister? does stannis declare his intentions towards the throne?? given him being a stickler for law, i think it’s much more likely stannis goes for a dance esque approach, and insists they crown baby aegon and have a group of trusted regents - this being the SECOND time a baby named aegon is crowned after all the adult targs have died, and the last in a long line of mad kings, even if that’s what stannis pushes for, with the momentum of the rebellion, i don’t know that the lords would be satisfied with that! robb certainly wasn’t trying to be named king but he couldn’t stop the momentum of the northern rebellion, and stannis - especially a stannis that hasn’t lost the battle of blackwater and had a come to jesus moment re: every life matters with edric storm and davos - is NOT gonna be able to unring that bell. beyond that, every other conflict has involved a targaryen claimant on both sides but stannis/robert are distantly targaryen only. too much infighting and i think that when ned marches on KL to beat tywin there, jon and hoster decide to push for a great council.

and that’s IF robert keeps mace distracted! because robert isn’t gonna sit in a siege, he’s gonna fight and mace is putting up a very low effort siege here - he doesn’t want to fight, he’s wary of picking on side too strongly, he’s purposefully trying to starve storm’s end out by sitting on his ass and sitting out the war. robert isn’t gonna wait for davos and his onions, he’s gonna try to break the tyrell host.

and honestly, even with the rebels still winning, without a king to rally behind, the political situation is looking. dire. who knows what a great council decides bc there are a lot of very proud men jockeying for power in the aftermath of the sack of KL, not to mention Rhaella crowning Viserys and birthing Dany and also, ya know, the Jon Snow Of It All. Robert’s Rebellion ends the way it does because Robert is an excellent figurehead for Jon Arryn to push onto the throne. Stannis doesn’t have the charisma and given he’s just as stubborn as Robert, I don’t think Jon is gonna be able to make him do jack shit. that leaves the rebellion and the realm at large in a precarious and weird situation, politically. do they crown a guy who inspires very little loyalty? do they crown an infant? a toddler? a woman? do they crown NED, with no claim to the iron throne, even distantly? do they call up maester aemon and ask him to sit on the throne while they figure out what the fuck they’re gonna do? do the kingdoms break back up??? without robert to lead them, and with stannis being stannis, i think it becomes more complicated. at the end of the day, if they decide their best option is stannis, he will feel duty bound to take the throne but you can bet your ASS he’s not marrying a lannister, or a tyrell, without a lot of cajoling bc he’ll see them as cowards. and who even are his options after that? lyanna is gone, elia is gone, rhaella is gone, rhaenys is gone, dany is an infant. lysa or cat wouldn’t be terrible choices but cat’s going to marry ned no matter what & i don’t think jon is gonna push for a girl he knows isn’t a virgin to be queen. they’ll want him married right away, but there really aren’t any suitable brides besides cersei and maybe a hightower or two? tricky tricky! robert is key to the rebellion working, without him, it goes sideways!

[slaveofemma]

10 Years of Slavery - Ch.19

By that time, I was already preconditioned to get sexual arousal from Ellie's stories. Retrospectively looking it's quite understandable; as I wasn't getting any proper sexual relief, I was imagining myself in the position of the Ellie's partners. When listening, it wasn't someone else but myself who's having sex with Ellie. So I was getting less and less annoyed from the situation I was in. It was the way I'm destined to experience sex; from second-hand stories from the voice of the woman I loved dearly.

Even though I made a total peace with being cuckolded, the night she had with Dylan still annoyed me. The romantic side of the events was hard to ignore. So, the same night I called Ellie to talk about it. But, she reminded me that I had already agreed to call Dylan her "boyfriend" until the end of the summer break, so it's completely normal to have some romantic nights with him. I told her that I was OK with her having romantic time with his boyfriend, but what I was actually afraid was to see her distancing from our relationship. She ensured me that I will always be the most special relationship in her life. It was clear for both of us that no one would love her as much as I do to agree on being a slave and suffering day and night for her. So, not any boyfriends or romantic nightouts would be good enough to replace me. But I should always be aware of my status as a slave, which makes me that special in the first place. I had nothing to complain about. So I thanked her, and hung up the phone.

After a couple of uneventful days, Ellie told me that she'll be seeing Dylan that night. They were going to see a movie together, and some drinks afterwards. And she told me that she was hoping to sleep together but they couldn't find a place as both of their parents were at home. So she wasn't sure how the night will end, but she was pretty sure that she wasn't looking for an outdoor adventure like last time, and hoping to have proper sex in a proper bed. Then we proceed to picking her outfit for the day. She wanted to prepare a suprise for Dylan, so picked a very casual outfit - an oversized jeans with a black t-shirt. But underneath she had a very sexy lingerie; a red mesh bra that shows her gorgeous pink nipples, matched with a seductive thong. She told me that she wasn't giving him a preview this time, but if he'd manage to make her happy throughout the night he'll be rewarded greatly. I wished her a great night before hanging up.

The night wasn't easy for me. I was unable to think straight, only thing that I could focus on was my rock-hard dick. I tried everything to take my mind away. I tried to go to sleep as early as possible, but it's hard to fall asleep when you are horny as hell. After some googling I found out that ice helps, and grabbed a bowl of ice to stuck my balls in. A very painful way to calm your dick, but hey, it works.

But obviously I was rock-hard again in the morning. And trying to keep it hidden around the family is a tough job, especially in the summer where only thing I was wearing was shorts. I didn't want to break the rules again so I was trying hard to keep myself soft and focus on different things, but I decided to ask Ellie for a relief if she was in the mood. And I was hoping her to be in the mood as she was with Dylan last night.

Ellie called me around 1pm and I answered immediately:

"Hey sweetie, good afternoon!"

"Hi babe. You alright?"

"Not too bad. Yourself? How was your night?"

"Well, it was weird. It started well, we went to a movie and then had a burger. Then Dylan took me to a pub for some drinks. I decided to ask about what her sister told the last time, about the other girls. He was suprised that I brought up the topic but yeah, apparently he was seeing other girls. He told me that he didn't have a date with anyone since I returned, but he was also not thinking about being exclusive. Honestly I'm a bit disappointed as I was planning to spend the summer with him."

"Did you tell him that?"

"I did actually, yes. I told him that I was planning to be with him until the end of the holiday season."

"Sounds like he didn't agree?"

"Well he was polite enough to not be straightforward rude about it, but the message is simply that if he finds an opportunity, he would score. And I don't know how should I feel about that."

"There is no shoulds with feelings baby. Just tell me how do you feel."

"Jealous."

"Rightly so. But, you never supposed to be exclusive anyways. In a month you'll be back with me. Should Dylan feel jealous about it as well?"

"But it's not the same thing."

"Yeah I know, no need to rub it in my face." I said with a painful smile. "But you'll see other people when you're back. So, Dylan is just a summer fling for you anyways. And vice versa, you're his summer fling."

"Should I date with other people as well then?"

"If that's what you want."

"I don't know. It was supposed to be a chill summer, where we just hang out together, have casual sex and have fun. Now I don't want to go into all the shenanigans of dating."

"Let's think it from a different perspective. Assuming you'll see him 3 to 4 days per week. Which is quite good, right?"

"Yeh, maybe even too much haha" She said with a cheerful voice.

"Then, as long as you can see him that often, why do you care about what he does in the other days?"

"You have a point. But it still bothers me."

"You want him to be exclusive to you, which is totally normal. You're doing the same with me as well. Maybe you're just being possessive with your relationships."

"Didn't like the bad undertone but maybe you're right."

"Sorry babe, I didn't mean anything bad."

"I know. But I think it still requires a proper punishment."

"Sounds like you're just looking to let off some steam."

"And fortunately I have a slave. How's your no-jerking going?"

"Terrible. I was actually hoping to talk about it."

"What's that?"

"I don't want to disappoint you, but I feel like I can't continue. I can't think straight, or concentrate properly. It's unbearable. May I ask for a release at least once a week?"

"I was actually thinking about that too. But no."

"But why?"

"Two things. First, you're prioritizing yourself and it's unacceptable. I'm telling you about my problems and immediately after you're asking to masturbate. Disgusting. Did we solve my problem first?"

"No."

"True. And you also said that I'm possessive. I don't say that I'm not, but it's still unacceptable for a slave to talk about his owner like that. So that makes it two good reasons for you to suffer a bit more."

I stood silent on the other end of the line.

"Do you agree with me?"

"Yes."

"Good. You're a great slave. So, no pleasure for you."

I thanked her, and we hung up. I was glad that she didn't tell me about what they did with Dylan after the pub. ...

I admit I broke the rules that night once again. But funnily enough, I was looking at a picture of Ellie's beautiful feet while jerking off.

... Waking up with a feeling of guilt, I started looking for methods to distract myself from sexual thoughts that morning. I was hoping to find a way to overcome my urges and stick to the orders. When I shared this with Ellie, she told me that she's proud of me and I deserve a reward. Then, I received a very appealing picture of her naked body. It was taken from the standing mirror in her room. She was holding the phone right in front of her face, and her other hand was lightly touching her clit. Her smallish breasts were almost shining in the morning sun, and her nipples were the pinkest of the pinks. Everything in her body was so familiar to me, yet so distant. I replied her message with saying a simple "Thanks". She replied saying that she wants to see the results of my research by the evening.

The basic idea was staying away from the porn and distracting myself with some other stuff. Being in public spaces instead of my room would also help. So, I decided to hit the gym in the morning. And for the afternoons I was hoping to attend to a course, preferably for playing guitar. For the evenings, I was planning to pester all my old friends and see someone every day. And hoping to get exhausted for the night and just fall asleep.

Ellie was impressed how determined I am to keep myself distracted. I was really feeling proud of myself. With her approval, I started looking for actual gyms and courses nearby. But after a couple of hours, I got a call from Ellie:

"Hey babe, why don't you do something useful instead of a guitar lesson? Do you research on nail technician courses. If you prove yourself as a good nail artist you'd be very useful for me."

That was clearly a clever idea, from her perspective. And from my perspective, it was a total shame. I had to find a way to discourage her from the idea. So, I told her that it would be hugely awkward for a young man studying in college to attend to a nail technician course, and I could've been seen as a total pervert. But she didn't give up easily:

"You can come up with a story. Maybe you're opening up a nail salon with your friends and would like to learn the actual stuff before making such an investment?"

"And that would be even worse as it's obviously a cover story for a pervert trying to sneak in."

"Haha you're right. A man taking a nail technician course is definitely a pervert. Anyways I don't care. Do your research and find courses, and give them a call. Maybe they don't mind having a pervert?"

"But Ellie, wouldn't it be insulting for me in front of other people?"

"Is it more important than me?"

"No of course not, but it's against one of our ground rules, to not expose ourselves to other people."

"Don't be a drama queen! They don't know you, they don't know our relationship. It doesn't count as exposing. Just be a good slave and find a nail technician course. Didn't you promise me for that? You told me that you'll be focusing your energy on how to be a better slave and spoil me. So do it now."

"Ok."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for not focusing on you and prioritising myself."

"Now you're talking. Chop chop!" And she hung up the phone.

... I did my research, and thank god there were no nail technician courses that I can attend nearby. I found three courses actually, but two of them were starting in the autumn, so I wasn't able to attend. And I called the third one for getting information, and they informed me that it's women-only course. I was lucky. So lucky.

I prepared an email to Ellie to show that I did my research but no avail. I was trying to show her that I did whatever I can to find something, so that I might impress her and get rewarded with a release.

But, soon after I sent my email, I got a message saying that I should be looking for the courses in the autumn then. I could only say "will do!" with a heart emoji. And got a kiss emoji back.

... I started hitting the gym and I was pushing myself hard. I had my worst muscle pain the next day, which kept aching even the day after. But thankfully it was keeping my mind busy with the pain and I wasn't thinking about Ellie all the time. She went to a house party with her friends -including Dylan too obviously- and spent the night in there.

So, there were more than 10 people, which Ellie knew most of them but not all. There were two more couples except Ellie and Dylan, and they were at one of the couple's flat. Ellie laughed hard when telling me about how one of the single guys tried to flirt with a girl all throughout the night, and how everyone else encouraged them and in the end they went to the spare bedroom together. Then I listened how they spent the whole night like a couple with Dylan and ended up having sex on the couch. Then how they got caught naked in the morning when people woke up before them, and they covered themselves with a blanket while their friends were teasing them. And then how the lucky guy from the previous night had pulled the blanket and exposed Ellie, how Dylan snapped at him and how much she liked being defended by Dylan. I asked her didn't she got annoyed when that guy exposed her naked, but she told me that it was just a friendly banter and just for a couple seconds, and then she teased him by saying he owes Ellie a nude, which annoyed Dylan even more and in turn made Ellie even happier. Also to my suprise, they all made a plan to rent a holiday home with a pool the next weekend. They were planning to rent the place for 3 nights, and have proper party all together. So, when we had a chance to speak on the phone the next day, she was still cheerful. And I was lying there with sore muscles, and a pulsing cock.

[melis-writes]

Hey, I wanted to let you know I understand what you mean about Apollonia, and I’m sure some of the others on here will do too!!

As someone who’s only seen the films, seeing your take on her has actually really helped me to understand her character and to see why she wasn’t so innocent. When I first saw her in the film, I admit I also didn’t like her, and found their whole relationship a little sickening. Yes, Michael had terrible reasons for being with her, but she did too and she was incredibly inconsiderate and greedy. So, we’re not all pro-Apollonia. Lol.

Anyway, blah blah blah. I wish everyone could just accept one another’s opinions and move on. But my support and agreement to your feelings on it 💕💗!

Also, you make the books sound so good!?! I’ve heard the characters are more fleshed out and dynamic in the books. I should read them sometime 🤔☺️

I'm glad!! 💕 I'm all about agree to disagree and it's what I've always been doing since posting my opinions and analysis on our beloved Godfather films. Everyone has a different perspective on it and that's what it's all about!

I actually pity Apollonia in so many ways because Michael ruined her life. She actually deserved better, but in the sense of who she is as a character, her role, what I've seen of her in the film and read of her in the book, it's a no from me lol. She's not a likeable character to me, which of course we all know I've pointed out countless times. 🤣

I don't have anything against anyone who loves Apollonia or ships Apollonia x Michael. Do whatever you want! What I do have a problem with is some Apollonia stans shoving it down everyone's throat, then coming in to argue when someone doesn't support the ship or like the character. I say some of course, because it's definitely not all of them and it's unfair to paint everyone with the same brush. It's actually borderline ridiculous. So they're allowed to say some of the most vile shit about Kay but God forbid you say Apollonia's annoying. 💀

The book is absolutely phenomenal!! I can't recommend it enough! I honestly didn't know I would love it this much. 🤗❤ Mario Puzo's writing style is definitely unique and you may be a little "uhhh..?" about how much he mentions the size of Sonny's dick on and on and on 🥴😂 but there's so much more depth when it comes to the characters in it! I especially say this for Kay, Sonny, Tom and even Luca Brasi. 😳

[vodka-redbull-daily]

November 22nd, 2023 (Part 1)

*Graphic Sexual Content*

It's been quite a while since I've received a dick pic. It feels kind of weird complaining about that. I don't think I'm even complaining, but most people would be so happy to stop Having to look at random people's dicks. It was  kind of fun collecting them if I'm honest. it was fun showing them to D---- and laughing at them together. I'm not sure why that is. maybe I just finally got into the group of people that don't send dick pics very often and have weeded through all the ones that like to do that. although, I've also found so many people who like to flake. I'll make plans with a guy, then he either goes to me completely or keeps canceling over and over again. B--- has seemed like the best prospect, after F----. when F---- turned out to be kind of an asshole, B--- seems like he would be a good alternative. sure, he was incredibly boring  and I had a sneaking suspicion sex would be ass, but he was so far most likely to be the most consistent person.  but he ended up flaking on me two separate times before he finally just said that he wasn't going to try anymore. to be fair, those were his exact words,  but I did try and make it work and he just straight up stopped answering my texts. oh well.

 after having so many flakes, it's incredibly annoying and making it to where I kind of want to start looking at other sites. I've been getting semi good luck from this one site, but I'm running out of men in general, much less men that are actually going to meet me and pay me. W--- was an anomaly. I normally would not continuously go out with a person who's not paying me, but I really enjoyed him that first day and I even plan on seeing him later in the week. I know I'm going to have a good time and we'll probably end up having sex with him and I don't mind that. I obviously want to do that otherwise I wouldn't want to go. but it's incredibly annoying that I haven't gotten paid in quite a while.  I really hope this isn't the death knell of my time as a sugar baby.   I'll probably start signing up for some other sites soon enough. I found a Reddit thread about the sugar baby lifestyle, although it seems like I already have an account on the most popular site and everyone on there is kind of saying that it's shit.  they're honestly isn't that much helpful information on there.

Today, I have plans to meet two different guys. I'm going to meet up with B------ around noon. I'm so excited to be able to meet up with him again. it's been quite a while since we fucked in the car and he keeps promising me that it'll be so much more enjoyable since he's going to actually get a hotel room. since it's so close to Thanksgiving, though, I told him that I'd be okay with only taking 100 this time instead of the usual 200 since most hotel rooms are extra expensive right now. yeah, this is a bad business move, especially since I keep complaining about how I haven't made that much money recently. but I'm also incredibly horny. and I enjoy B------ a lot. sue me. sometimes I just want to get dicked down by someone who actually knows what they're doing and isn't 103 years old.

We planed to meet at 12:30.  he sent me the address to the hotel room and then also sent me some instructions to follow. apparently this is part of being a submissive. or it can be. I guess it's kind of like a role-playing thing, where the dominant will give you a set of instructions and you're supposed to do them. he had a special name for it but I forgot what it was. I'm sure I'll hear it again before too long. his instructions were to come to the room, take off all my clothes, and wait. pretty simple instructions. I also decided to go without any underwear or bra. F---- had asked me to do that and honestly I enjoy that more anyway. I fucking hate wearing underwear  and a bra. sexy for the guy, comfy for me. win win.  one last rule he had was that every time I came, I would have to lick it off of him. again, this is actually something I like so it wasn't that big a deal for me.

 I  got to the hotel, but he forgot to send me the room number so I waited for a while outside before he finally did. once he did that, I went over to the room and he opened the door for me, since hotel rooms lock automatically.  I walked in, took off all my clothes and everything like he said, and waited. again, this wasn't  a very difficult set of instructions. he had some music playing through a little speaker and was very quick to start touching me all over. his skin was just as soft as I remembered. his fingers were just as good as I remembered. it seemed that no matter how he touched me, I would get chills and goosebumps. it's so strange. two different people can touch me in the exact same way and my body will have such an immensely different reaction. I remembered when I was having sex with him, how he would Trace his fingers  down my stomach, thigh, and underwear line. my entire  body would shake with pleasure even though he wasn't actually even doing anything that sexual. it feels almost the same with B------. he could touch me on my back, on my arms,  run his fingers through my hair  I would already be on the edge of an orgasm. meanwhile, somebody else could do something similar and I would lay there like a dead fish. I want to get turned on, I'm probably already wet, but it's just not the same.

 he also had me  put on a blindfold which is very excited for. he had been telling me a little bit about sensory play, about putting on things like a blindfold and headphones so that your sense of touch was heightened. I was really looking forward to that. after I  had the blindfold on, he led me to a little couch looking thing and had me kneel there while leaning against the arm. I wasn't uncomfortable, I could have stayed there for as long as he wanted me to. he continued to touch me, occasionally dipping his fingers up inside me. He commented on how wet I was.  then he explained to me the game we were going to play. 

This was going to be my first Step into getting into more BDSM things. it seems pretty much everybody is into impact play and that's honestly the first thing most people think of when I think of BDSM shit. he told me he had brought a bunch of different items, he was going to use them on me, and I was supposed to remember which one was which. he told me about this game before, how he had used it on other people. every time he would use one on me, he would ask me then to rate the Pain on a scale from 1 to 10 and then immediately after that asked me to write it on how much I enjoyed it from 1 to 10.  there are quite a bit of them. I knew there were a bunch of different things they're used for this kind of stuff, I just didn't realize he had brought so many and then he was going to use so many of them on me.  it was quite a bit of time that we spent actually doing this.  he would tell me the name of it, then let me feel it with my hands, then you sit on me. he had me repeat what it was afterwards,  then I would give him my numbers. I think I can remember them all off the top of my head:

Flogger: A leather flogger.  pretty simple, if you know what a flogger is you know what this is.  I can't remember exactly what I judged each of these on each scale, but I do remember that this is one of my favorites. not that painful and I actually quite enjoyable.

 long flogger: very similar to the first, but longer. obviously. this one hurt a little bit more  but still definitely one of my favorites. again, I actually enjoyed it and was it in terrible pain.

 stinging fogger: this one had little thin strands and was much more painful than the other two floggers. I didn't like it that much, but they're definitely worse things on this list.

 thuddy flogger: heavy and thick leather straps on this one. surprisingly, it actually didn't hurt very bad at all. it was definitely one of my favorites since the Pain Scale is very low and with all the floggers he was able to  run them across my skin at a certain way that  was very pleasurable.

 dragon's tongue: this one was the first one he used. I was basically thick sheet of plastic that was cut down the middle. very much like a tongue of a serpent like it was named after. it reminded me a lot of those plastic clapping hands that you get from a shitty arcade. it definitely wasn't the worst, but it was not my favorite.  low to mid-range on the pay scale and made to high range on the pleasure scale.

 hemp cane: this was what seemed to be hemp  just tied in a fancy way to make it kind of like a stick or rod. it was stiff enough to be painful, but because it was made out of a kind of rope, it wasn't as painful as I was expecting.  I actually enjoyed the soft scratchy feeling of it. Another mid-range one on the Pain Scale and the pleasure scale.

 short paddle: a pretty thick wooden paddle with holes drilled into it. once I felt the holes with my hand, I was nervous. I knew that that would help with the speed and pain. although, it did finally enough remind me of Swiss cheese. it was pretty painful and I didn't enjoy it very much at all. although, still not the worst.

 long paddle: as the name suggests, it's exactly the same as the prior one just longer. this one was more painful and I  disliked it even more because of that.

 Tiny: B------ told me this was the first BDSM Type Toy he had ever gotten. and it wasn't even actually a toy. it was a wood especially he bought from Target and had filed down to make it a toy. I have heard about trying to make your own toys being pretty unsafe and this was actually very painful. I really didn't like it that much at all. still not the worst, but very near the bottom.

 the rod: this one was the worst. he did warn me that it was going to be incredibly painful and didn't use it very hard or very much. in fact, he relegated only three strikes with both of these last two ones because he knew that they were more painful than the other ones. he also said that he actually didn't use these during play, more for a “punishment” type situation.  it was just a long, metal rod.  I obviously hated it.

 the stick: surprisingly, this one wasn't that bad. this was another one that was supposed to be used in a “punishment” type situation,  but since it was pretty much just a yardstick that was a little bit thicker, it wasn't that bad. me and my siblings just a whack each other with yardsticks fairly often, so maybe I'm just used to the feeling already. but honestly, I would prefer that over some of the paddles that he had used earlier.

 after we  had gone through each one individually,  he went back and picked five at random. he said that if I got all five right, I would get reward. if I got less than three right, I would get a punishment. little did he know, that I am way too competitive for my own good. whenever there's a game involved, whether it be the religious crap that I had to do when I was younger or the BDSM shit, I tend to take any challenge probably way too seriously.  there's a reason they stopped letting me play games  with the other kids who didn't go to church as often as I did in religious education.  he also gave me three chances to guess each toy, which led to me getting every single one correct. a few of them I even got right on the first try.

 my reward?  he ate me out. I was pretty surprised by this, though I shouldn't have been since he did say that giving pleasure to his Partners is actually one of his favorite things. he and I are very similar in that way.  this makes B------ the third person I've ever slept with that actually gave me head. maybe I should  add that to my statistics.  unfortunately for B------, I've actually received much better head.

it wasn't bad. it was actually very good and I might have cum in his mouth if he had gone a little bit longer.  he definitely was more into licking my ass, which he had told me he was in the ass eating before, than he really was focused on my pussy and clit.  T----- was also in eating ass,  but he usually did the two separately. He was definitely the best person I've ever had. I don't know how he knew, but he would always put his tounge exactly where I wanted.  the perfect mix of speeding, up slowing down,  more direct focus on the clit, using his fingers inside me to make me absolutely scream with pleasure.  B------ was good, but I don't know if he'll ever stand a chance against him. not to mention he did it every time we had sex.  it seemed like it was one of his favorite things to do. I remember once when I was on my period and we were just getting to the point where he would fuck me and he leaned down and whispered in my ear about how badly he wanted to eat me out. how sad he was that  I was on my period. I'm hot just now thinking about it.

I miss him so badly.

 it wasn't a bad reward. it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but pretty soon after that, he was actually putting his dick inside me. There was a little bit of pain as he stretched me out.  I guess I still wasn't used to him. he's definitely the biggest I've ever been with.  he will probably always be the biggest  I will have ever been with.  it took me a little bit, but eventually he was able to fuck me without any pain. I'm pretty sure he went all the way inside me this time. it only took us three times before he was able to actually bury that big ass cock deep inside me.  he felt so good inside me, but  he wouldn't let me cum.  I would wine and beg and plead and squirm and moan so loud with pleasure, but the Orgasm denial  that he showed me that first day was back. I loved it. when he finally let me cum, it was such a wave of relief.  after that, he took me off the bed and had me  lick up my cum off his dick.  I guess that checks off the mandatory dick sucking that's required and every single sexual encounter I have, but it wasn't bothered by it because I actually like the taste of my own cum.  it was the only time we ended up doing that even though it was one of his rules. I asked him about it afterward, why he had stopped enforcing that role, and he said that I just came so much all the time and he really didn't want to have to stop and start over and over again.

 pretty soon, he had me on all fours. again, his dick was shoved inside me and this angle is one of my favorites. doggy style seems to always just hit that right spot for me, and B-------'s dick always pushes me to my limit. I had to beg for my orgasm again. the way his hands would grab my waist and he would use my whole body as a fleshlight,  just pounding himself inside me. it's like heaven. he did eventually let me have another orgasm. then, he told me to stay exactly in place and I felt him get off the bed. I heard him moving things around. more toys.

 when he came back, he squirted Lube all over my ass, even getting some of it dripping to my legs. not that big deal as my own cum was already dripping down my legs. his finger gently dipped inside my asshole. we had talked about how I wasn't ready to do anal with his actual cock yet. he was just way too big and even though I had done anal with F----, F---- had not been that big. plus, we had talked about how  much I enjoyed the double penetration T---- had done to me so long ago. sure enough, after he had sufficiently lubedme up, I felt a vibrating toy being pushed inside. it felt kind of like anal beads. I definitely was enjoying myself. soon, he also pushed dick  back into my pussy. such a strange sensation, getting  so much pleasure from  the two different places at the same time. it was hard to focus on one, hard to feel exactly where all my pleasure was coming from. I had to beg for my orgasm a few more times. 

After a little bit, he took the toy out of my ass and began lubing it up again.  in between each time he did this, He would instruct me to stay exactly where I was. I would be there on the bed, ass open in the air, just waiting for him to stick something else in. and he always did. a new toy soon entered me, this time pretty clearly a butt plug. we went back to him fucking me with that inside me. we went round and round with me begging to cum, him denying me until it was almost too much, then letting me go. he also kept changing out the plug, getting bigger and bigger each time. he ended up using four different ones, and on the last one I was definitely beginning to feel stretched. it was almost painful, almost to the point where I asked him to stop. I stretched and stretched and  gripped the sheets.   right at the last second, right before  I called it off, my ass took the whole thing. I was definitely stretched, and there was a twinge of pain, but it definitely was not unbearable and  I got enough pleasure from it that I was able to ignore the pain. from here, he fucked me until he came inside me also allowing me another orgasm of my own. I came seven times. he usually makes me count, so I kept counting just in case.

After that,  I took the blindfold off and he gave me a towel to clean myself up with. not very many men do that. I kind of forgot he did that. it's such a weird mix being with all these guys and even the ones that you feel like do kind of care about your experience don't do that kind of stuff. after we cleaned ourselves up,  he had me go ahead and look at all the toys he had used. we started with the anal stuff, because he wanted to show off how good I had done. I was incredibly surprised to see the toys I had  you just had inside me laying out there on the towel. the biggest one, the one that I had a little bit of trouble with, was so much bigger than I had imagined. in thickness, it was pretty comparable to B------. all of them are also much longer than I expected. he also showed me what I thought to be anal beads, but it was pretty much just a vibrator with a bunch of little orbs on it. the thing was close to 7 in long, and he told me I took all of it. he was really excited, since this meant that I could probably eventually take him.  it really wouldn't take that much longer or that much more stretching before I Would be able to fit his entire dick in my ass.

 he also had me look at all the toys  he had me rank. most of them, looked exactly how I imagined them based on how they felt in my hands. he had me sort them from the one I like the most so the one I like the least out on the bed. we talked about them a little bit, he explained to me the story of tiny, he told me about other toys he wanted to use, toys he wanted to buy, all kinds of stuff. he washed off all the anal toys for me, gave me instructions on how to take care of them, and told me that I could take them home. his only rule was anytime I use them I had to talk to him about it. and I want to use them, but that means I have to go out and buy Lube at some point. he also told me he had gotten me more but they just had to come in on time. he said there's suction cup on the bottom. very intriguing.

 after talking about the toys and him showing me some of the girls he had been with before and talking about that  plus some of the gangbang groups he was in, he asked me when I had to leave  and how many times I had cum.  I told him 7 and I really didn't have a time I need to leave, since the only plans I had for the day was going to my meet and greet with S-- but that wasn't until 7:00 and it was only two at that point. he thought about  it for a second,  and said he thought he could squeeze in at least four more orgasms.

 I laid back down on the bed, he finished cleaning the last of the toys and got them all packaged up, then we were at it again. this time, every time I asked he let me cum. I was mostly on my back, but he also turned me on my side, twisting my torso my legs separately I'm pushing himself deep inside me that way. I never been in that position before and I enjoyed it very much. since he wasn't denying me any orgasm this time, I came over and over and over again. like I usually do with others. in all honesty, this time was even better than when I was blindfolded. I think since he was actually less focused on the performance side of it and more on just a good plain old fucking, he was a little bit more rough, more straight to the point then the fancy start And stop and specialize movement to try and get somebody on the edge without pushing them over. instead, we just had a good old fashioned fuck. I ended up cuming 12 times in the span of about 10 to 15 minutes. and he also came again, saying that was the quickest he's ever cum twice in a row. I've heard that a few times. even W---- said something about how he had a hard time actually cuming due to the mix of medication he was on and was very pleased when he was able to cum inside me.

 we talked for a little bit longer, he gave me the money, gave me the anal toys, then I left. he stayed behind a little bit longer to clean up a little bit and who knows, maybe he invited another girl over. I have no clue. we talked a little bit about his past conquests and he said he's been with at least 120 people off this one site alone. for all I know, he invited a girl immediately after me. I wouldn't be bothered by it. it's not like I'm not doing the exact same thing later on tonight.

[couldntbedamned]

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 23

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is of Legal Age, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker, Passive Aggressive Canned Soup, Sick Peter Parker, Caretaker Stephen Strange

Notes: Please remember to read the tags/warnings listed and read/avoid as best for you. YOU are responsible for the content you chose to consume on the internet.

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Chapter 23

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Although Peter had been baffled at the extravagance, he had to admit the finished basement was wonderful. He found himself down there most days, running for at least an hour. The convenience was just too perfect to pass up, especially as the weather had started to chill with a vengeance.

"Not surprising, given how late summer lasted," Stephen had said. "I have a feeling the rest of autumn and winter will be just as persnickety. Best keep to the treadmill, I think."

(In his more fanciful moments, Peter wondered if Stephen's purchase of the treadmill and finishing out the basement was to keep the neighborhood ladies from watching him run. He was probably being ridiculous, but it was a fun thought.)

In any case, Peter agreed with him about sticking with the treadmill given the weather. After his bout of influenza, the last thing he wanted was to deal with risking getting sick again.

He definitely wanted to avoid getting sick again because Stephen hadn't touched him since. Aside from the usual kiss to his forehead before leaving for work, Stephen didn't have Peter undress before bed, and he certainly didn't wake Peter up for sex. Even their date night that Friday hadn't led to anything other than sleeping in the same bed again.

It was annoying, but honestly, Peter couldn't exactly blame the man.

Stephen had seen Peter at an undeniably low point, unable to control his basic bodily functions as the influenza took its toll and had him vomiting and expelling in equal turns. Peter still couldn't look at the commode in the bathroom without feeling embarrassed to his core. He had been so gross, and no wonder Stephen was in no hurry to assert his selecting spousal rights or even kiss him.

Still... Peter had needs, too!

Going on a week and a half and he was about ready to find a way to get the damned cage off and get his dick in hand. Or beg Stephen to do something over dinner. Or breakfast. He wasn't picky at the moment.

The storm was late for the season, but it was strong enough to knock out the power. Not wanting to feel helpless or think too hard on how it had been an equally stormy day when his Aunt May had passed, he went over to check on Ava. She'd invited him in eagerly and he saw that she'd lit a number of candles. Her plans - and now his plans - were for an afternoon of reading by the roaring fire she'd built in their fireplace.

He made notes to himself on how she'd set it up; a fire in the grand living room appealed to him.

"I heard from Clea," Ava said, motioning to her mobile. "There was a nasty auto accident, and the hospital is slammed. The storm took out the power, but the backup generators are going strong."

Peter gave a not-quite-audible gulp. "What if those fail?"

"Then the backup backup generators will kick on. The whole system is serviced thoroughly every quarter. Stephen will be fine," she added.

He thought about sending Stephen a message from his own mobile but decided against it. He didn't want to distract him, especially if the place was busy and there were patients who needed help.

He couldn't even start getting anything ready for dinner. He knew better than to break the seals of both cold cabinets and the deep freezers. The power would be back eventually, and he could always make some peanut butter sandwiches if nothing else.

He and Ava continued to talk and read by the fire and when it turned six o'clock, she mentioned pulling out some cans of stew to heat over said fire. Peter decided it was time to return home. He declined her offer to stay for dinner, even though he knew that circumstances would allow for him to eat outside of his usual rules.

He went home, eyed the fireplace, and drew up what he'd seen Ava do so he'd able to do the same one day. Then he pulled on another pair of heavy socks and a set of thermal wear to go under his jeans and sweater. Feeling comfortably toasty, Peter lit several candles, and he grabbed a wool blanket. After retrieving on of his books, he wrapped himself up and settled in the den to continue reading by candlelight.

In little over an hour, the power kicked back on. It was a quarter after seven according to his mobile and Peter let out a sigh of relief. He could throw a simple tuna casserole together and hopefully Stephen would understand why dinner was late.

He'd just put the casserole in the oven when he heard the sound of Stephen's Buick locking in the driveway, followed shortly by Stephen's opening the front door and immediately going up the stairs.

He quickly rinsed his hands and went upstairs himself, heading to the bedroom. "I'm glad you made it back saf-"

He trailed off.

Stephen's hair was damp from the rain, and he was... he was wearing dark blue scrubs.

It shouldn't have struck him as much as it did. Stephen was a doctor, a surgeon. Of course he wore scrubs. But he left for work and came home dressed in slacks and a button-down nearly every day and Peter had never seen him wearing them.

Stephen was already stupidly attractive. The dark navy pants only made his long legs look even longer and the top... the way he filled it out with his lean frame and how it highlighted how toned his arms were? Stephen in scrubs was... fuck, he was hot.

"Peter, are you okay?" Stephen asked, moving to pull off the scrub top.

Peter hurried forward to stop him. It was almost as if it weren't even him moving, but someone else.

"Peter?"

He couldn't take his eyes off Stephen's skin at the v of Stephen's top. Hell, how was that bit of skin so mesmerizing? He wondered why Stephen didn't wear V-neck shirts more often and then immediately dismissed that notion. No one else needed to see him like that. He'd just have to tolerate hospital staff seeing him as such - they had jobs to do and he was sure Stephen wouldn’t entertain any sort of flirting.

"You never wear these," Peter said absently, fingering the material of the scrub top and preventing Stephen from removing it. "I've never seen you in them."

Stephen let out an amused little huff. "There's been no call to wear them home. I'm only wearing them now because the clothes I was wearing were soaked in blood after I was called down to the ER."

That got Peter's attention. "Did you bring them home?" Getting blood out of anything was a pain, but doable.

Stephen shook his head. "They were a total loss. They went straight into the hospital bin that goes to the incinerator."

Peter frowned. Stephen's nice clothing, just marked to be burned? It was so wasteful!

"It's not my decision," Stephen said, reading his face. "Hospital policy for anything deemed a biohazard. We all get stipends for clothing throughout the year because of things like this. Scrubs are fairly cheap and stand-up to heavy industrial cleaning, which is why we have so many sets in our lockers at work."

"You should keep a few here," Peter murmured. The dark blue looked so good against Stephen's skin. He started pushing Stephen back to the bed, knowing he had to do something before this opportunity slipped.

"You find them attractive?" Stephen sounded amused and then let out a small groan as he sat down, and Peter immediately climbed into his lap. "Peter, you've seen me naked!"

"Yes, but I haven't seen you in a V-neck and definitely not in anything that shows off your forearms this way," Peter admitted. He felt Stephen stir beneath him and leaned back so he could pull at the drawstring of his pants.

"This is a surprise," Stephen said with a chuckle.

"It shouldn't be," Peter said, still focused on getting Stephen's pants off. "You’re so attractive it's almost disgusting."

Stephen laughed out loud. "And here I thought you were merely tolerating my attentions."

Peter looked up at him and was struck at the vulnerability hiding behind the humor in those odd, beautiful eyes of his. "No, I've always found you attractive and any initial resistance was more fear than anything else."

"You were afraid of me?" Stephen asked quietly. "Afraid I would hurt you?"

He shook his head. "Not of you, exactly, more of what it would mean. I was also kind of afraid it would hurt, a little, because the custodian I had at the bureau was pretty clear in what my role as a selected spouse was to be in the bedroom and feeling good wasn't supposed to be a high priority for me." He shrugged. "And then I worried I'd be rubbish at sex, and you'd get upset and punish me again, which I also kind of hoped for because then that meant I'd be able to justify feeling self-righteous and pissy about everything."

"It wasn't exactly the best start to our marriage," Stephen admitted.

"Maybe not, but we haven't done too bad since," Peter offered. He continued his self-appointed task of getting Stephen's pants down far enough to free his cock and with a little assistance from Stephen, the impressive length was there for Peter's mouth's taking.

When Stephen went to kick the pants off entirely, Peter stopped him. "No, leave them - and the shirt. Please."

He wanted that cock in his mouth; he was sure he was far from the best Stephen had ever had but surely, he beat whoever else had seen or tasted it in sheer enthusiasm. He maneuvered himself onto his knees and after a quick look at Stephen - whose eyes were half-lidded - he took the fat head of Stephen's cock into his mouth.

"Oh hell," Stephen groaned out.

Pleased with himself, Peter carried on.

He'd barely managed to pull Peter's mouth off of his cock before pouring himself down that gorgeous pale throat. As much as he enjoyed Peter's mouth on him, he vastly preferred spilling inside Peter the other way.

"Get your clothes off," he ordered, actually unfastening Peter's jeans himself. "Now."

It took longer than Stephen wanted, since Peter wore a set of thermal underwear under his jeans and sweater, but once the thick wool socks were flung across the room and cage hastily placed on the nightstand, Peter was sprawled on the bed, face flushed, eyes bright, and pretty cock all red as it filled.

He probably should have been more tender and gentler with Peter - he never wanted to hurt him - but he'd had the day from hell, and he'd missed the sex during the period of self-imposed celibacy he'd taken to ensure Peter was fully recovered from the influenza. His own hand couldn't hold a candle to the tight heat that was being sheathed inside Peter and every night since that Friday he'd spanked him had been a challenge.

He had to keep Peter pinned while he pushed in, watched his face intently for any hint of pain as he sank deeper and deeper until he was hilted. Beneath him Peter was doing his best to stay still though Stephen could tell he desperately wanted to move. Peter hadn't ever been cold or truly passive during sex, but he hadn't initiated anything other than the few times he'd gotten on his knees. Curious, Stephen released Peter's hands and Peter clung to him, hands fisting the starchy fabric of his scrub top.

"Please," he moaned. "Stephen, please!"

He'd dreamed that one day Peter would have the same need for him he had felt since first seeing him, that Peter would want him just as deeply, obsessively, and all it had taken was a cheap pair of navy-blue scrubs to sway his young husband to break.

"I've got you," he murmured and started to move.

It was different even from when Peter had ridden him; they moved together, Peter rolling his hips to meet every thrust and holding him tightly.

He worked off the frustration of his day, of his self-imposed celibacy, of hell! - the bad weather! as he worked in Peter and Peter gave back as good as he got. He pushed up to capture Stephen's mouth and they kissed for long moments as they moved together again and again in a coil of need and want neither had ever quite felt before. He felt the heat of Peter's release paint his scrub top and he let himself go with a series of long driving thrusts before stilling deep inside and filling him.

They collapsed, still joined - and Stephen still partially dressed - on their sides, breathing heavily.

A thought struck him, and he smirked. He opened his mouth to share that thought but Peter saw the look on his face.

"Stephen, if you make a joke about the doctor being in, I will make sure you have canned soup for the rest of the year," Peter warned, still breathy.

Stephen laughed and pulled his softened cock free, still a little amazed that he'd just fucked his husband while wearing his scrubs. This set could never go back to work with him; he'd never be able to concentrate whilst wearing them.

"Peter, I adore you," he said, still chuckling.

"You're tolerable,' Peter teased. "More or less."

"I've been called worse," Stephen said. "I'll take it."

It had been the sex talking, surely, Peter thought as he raced downstairs after hearing the oven timer beeping insistently.

Peter, I adore you.

Yes, definitely the sex talking. He wasn't under any delusion, knew that Stephen had had a hard day and he'd been an easy and willing outlet.

"I was planning on something a little more substantial, but we lost power for most of the day," Peter explained as set down Stephen's filled plate along with a cherry fizzy water.

"I'm sorry about that," Stephen said. "Usually when it happens, I'm at work so it's never been a concern. I'll have to look into a backup generator. You weren't too uncomfortable?"

Peter shook his head. "I went over to check on Ava, but she was fine and had a fire going. We hung out and read and it was nice. She also gave me advice on how to make a fire over here."

Stephen considered. "You'd want to?"

"I think it would be nice, especially as it gets colder," Peter enthused. "It felt really homey over there and she was even able to cook over it, which would be kind of cool."

"I'll ask Clea what chimney sweep service she uses, and we'll have ours serviced before we attempt to build a fire in it. The last thing we need is for us to burn the house down," Stephen said.

Cheered that he'd get the chance to use the fireplace, Peter doled out more casserole onto each of their plates and even grabbed another two fizzy waters.

"Feeling better?" Stephen asked as they went to bed that night.

"What?" Peter asked.

"You haven't been yourself, lately."

"Oh, I guess... I was worried you didn't want me anymore; you know?" Peter admitted. It was always easier to admit things in the dark. He understood why Stephen preferred it, at least.

"Why would you possibly think that?" Stephen asked.

"I mean, I didn't blame you," Peter added. "Seeing me so sick and gross like that had to be pretty off-putting. So, I get it, really."

"You think I stopped wanting you because I took care of you while you were sick?" Stephen asked incredulously. He sat up and turned on his nightstand lamp. "Peter, that's ridiculous!"

"What else am I supposed to think?" Peter countered, feeling defensive. "You haven't touched me until today!"

"Peter, you were sick. I was trying to be considerate and give you ample time to recover before throwing myself on you!" Stephen said. "I enjoy sex with you Peter, very much, and as you've experienced, I have no problem indulging. But it will never be at the expense of your health, not ever." He snorted. "I do possess some self-control."

"Oh," Peter said. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Any other concerns I can help with?" Stephen asked, not unkindly. "I can't read your mind."

"Claims of your perfection are only slightly over-exaggerated," Peter teased before sobering. "No, that was it. I was feeling sorry for myself because I felt... well, I wanted sex, and I still don't know how to just come out and say it."

Stephen studied him, eyes hot. "I'll teach you," he promised. "But, and I say this with great regret, not tonight. I'm far too tired after the day I've had."

Peter nodded and motioned for Stephen to turn off the lamp before settling back down into the bed. "That's fair."

"Go to sleep, Peter."

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I recently saw a video by youtuber grady smith and looking at the channel, looks like he talks a lot about country music. do u think you'd be interested in something like that? i watched a few videos and i like what hes saying about the songs

Part 2: i watched grady smiths video on how hardy cracked the bro country code and i agree i dont listen to a ton of country but i really enjoy hardys music and its makin me want to listen to more, i particularly love all she left was me, i think grady said instrumental is a bit too much for him but im def listenin for the lyrics not the instrumental haha, could i hear some thoughts from u on hardy/country music in general

(Based on this post, for anyone who wants context, but it just said I used to read a lot of country music blogs.)

Looking up Grady briefly, he seems like an interesting guy. To be honest I haven't kept up with the country music blogs since around 2015, I'd sort of found a lot of the artists I really liked, and could follow as they put out new music so didn't feel as much need to find more online. But I probably should look at it again, because I'm sure I'm missing lots of good new artists.

I have to admit I have an instinctive, unfair dislike of the whole "YouTuber" thing, of social media generally (which I am hypocritically writing on social media, but I like that Tumblr is not the sort of social media where anyone tells you to "like and subscribe", you know?), and from trying a few minutes of his videos just now I had to repeatedly remind myself to not immediately be a judgmental dick about that. There are probably lots of good reasons why it's bad to dislike that stuff, because it's letting anyone put themselves out there instead of having media be the sole property of people who've been deemed good enough by television networks or other publishers, and that's an improvement generally. That's my view on the political and sociological issue, but then I look at someone talking into a camera about their sponsor and my judgmental brain immediately kicks in and objects. Also hypocritically, this does not happen when audio-only podcasts talk about their sponsors, even though that's the same thing.

Anyway though, this guy seems cool. I may see if I can get over my inherently judgmental nature and watch some of his videos, because I probably am missing out on music that I'd like just due to not following that stuff anymore.

I don't know the singer Hardy, I just listened to the All She Left Was Me song and I must admit it's not really my thing, but it's not bad. As in, I think it's not quite to my taste but I don't think it's terrible music. I definitely see what you mean about it being bro country, but a type of bro country that doesn't immediately make me want to punch everyone involved in making it, so that's impressive.

To be honest I'm sure I'm betraying my ignorance here, in that I was sort of on top of whatever was big in the alternative country/Americana blogs from 2006-ish to 2015-ish, and have a decent-ish knowledge of Highwaymen-era country (that I didn't need music blogs for, that came from my parents when I was young) but can't claim to be all that informed about the genre, especially currently. I know good country music makes me feel like my heart is breaking in every part of my body and in all the best ways, and in 2012 I used to get really really mad when people applied that term to pop music sung by empty cowboy hats. These days I'm less mad, but that's probably only because I pay less attention and am almost never in a place where I have to hear songs from a radio anymore.

Here, these are some of my favourite songs by artists that I discovered from country music blogs years ago:

And here's a song by my favourite country singer, Kris Kristofferson, whom I was into before I found the blogs, but this song does summarize the general attitude expressed in those blogs quite well:

...So those are some of my thoughts. I was a lot more annoying about them in 2012. If anyone reading this finds me annoying now, just know I used to be far worse.

Thanks for the message! I always appreciate people sending me things out of nowhere telling me they want to know about my music taste, though I unfortunately don't know much about the specific stuff you brought up.